


Mistaken Identity

by Kaytla



Series: Mistaken Identity [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaytla/pseuds/Kaytla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miroku follows a beautiful voice to a beautiful woman. What will happen when he realises it's really Sesshomau? And how will Sesshomaru handle the misunderstanding?</p>
<p>Just some crack for my personal enjoyment. xD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Head down and shoulders hunched defensively, hands shoved deep into his pockets, Miroku all but stomped along the street. He glared at anyone who looked happy, and purposely shunned anyone who looked coupley, privately wishing them all the misery in the world.

Taking a leaf out of his best friend's book, he decided today was a heaping pile of shit. Before he even left for work, his girlfriend had sent him a text message, breaking up with him. A text message! What kind of heartless, soulless woman dumped a man by _text message_?

And her reason? He looked around too much. Looking was fine! Everybody said so! It was _touching_ that was the bad thing. It had taken it a while to really sink in, but he had that down now. No matter how tempting, he wasn't going to touch. But a man was _allowed_ to look. It was like dangling a steak in front of a dog and expecting him not to look!

He hadn't sent a message back. He'd been too angry. He preferred to have that discussion when he was fully in control of himself and could fully unleash his ire to the best of his abilities. Instead, he'd left the house and climbed into his car... only to find that it wouldn't start.

Miroku was a man with a wide range of knowledge on a variety of subjects, but unfortunately, mechanics wasn't one of them. Who wanted to fiddle around with a dirty car and get covered in all that nasty grease? He knew the basics, as much as anyone else did, but after jiggling a few things, and poking a few others, he decided it wasn't a problem he could fix himself and resolved to find another way to get to work.

The public transport system was a nightmare. He was squashed in so tight he left like a sardine must live in luxury, and someone too close for comfort probably hadn't seen a shower in weeks. By the time he scrambled off the bus, he felt decidedly hot, bothered, unclean, very, very unhappy and was twenty minutes late for work.

His mood was further worsened when his boss yelled at him, first for being late (although he _had_ called in and explaied why, but apparently that wasn't a good enough excuse for the cantankerous old bastard) and then again for losing a client because he'd been too distracted and pissed off to play nice properly on the phone.

By the time he left work, he was angry enough that he was seriously reconsidering his plan to wait until he was calm to call his ex-girlfriend. Dumping all his venom on her seemed like a good way to lift his downtrodden spirits. Clutching his phone inside his pockets, he was almost dialling her number when he suddenly heard it: singing.

Miroku paused and looked around, realising he'd unconsciously walked into his local club district. Evidently his subconscious had been trying to make him feel better, he thought, and cracked his first smile of the day; a few hours watching the pretty girls dance, dancing with any who were willing, always made him feel better. There was music, and singing, all around him, but that one voice was tugging at him like a siren's song, sending a tingle down his spine he usually only felt when he laid eyes on a particlarly hot girl.

He started forward again, searching. He wasn't quite in deep enough to have reached the strip clubs and lapdance joints (his usual haunts when he needed a pick-me-up), but there were nightclubs and gentleman clubs (not the stripping kind, but for pursuits such as gambling) dotted here and there among the other commercial proprties and the few, unfortunate residential buildings.

The voice remained indistinct, almost like a murmur, but he could still tell that it was slow and sensual - a romantic song, or intimate at the very least. The voice was a little deeper than he usually liked on a girl, but that somehow became part of what made it so intriguing. He walked further, and finally he was able to pick up the soft strumming guitars that entwined perfectly with the voice. He smiled again; getting closer to the prize.

But where was it? Besides the nightclubs, with the pulsing music that almost drowned out his siren, the buildings around him were fairly nondescript. No signs nearby boasted of showcasing such a fantastic and alluring voice.

Miroku kept hurrying forward until suddenly he realised the voice seemed to be coming from behind him. He stopped, turned back around, and frowned. None of the buildings nearby looked anything like a club. It was mainly shops, with one dark - hopefully soundproofed - house on his left. _Where_ was his mystery voice coming from?

With his anger not far away, Miroku began to get frustrated. Determined not to lose it in the street, he closed his eyes, focusing on that one voice and trying to block out the rest of the nosie pollution around him.

It didn't help him determine what, exactly, was being sung, but it did make it seem like the voice was coming from... below? His eyes popped open and he looked down instead of up at buildings. Sure enough, on the right side of the street, he noticed a lit window that had to be what he was looking for underneath, appropriately, a liquor store.

Miroku grinned, his frustration melting away. What a naughty girl his singer must be, performing in a secret, underground club. Wasting no time, Miroku hurried over, all but running down the stairs and thanking his lucky stars there wasn't even a single person in line to get in. He was stopped by a bouncer before he reached the door, but at that moment, Miroku didn't care.

Through the single, slightly hazy window, he could see her. She stood alone onstage but for the presence of a drummer and a single guitarist, the three of them working together to create a slow, sensual number with a heady beat made for having sex to. An outfit of uniform black hid her body and, most importantly, her figure from him, but Miroku didn't mind much. He'd enjoy discovering what treasures she had underneath another time. She was tall enough that he was certain she must be wearing incredible heels, though he couldn't quite tell.

Her skin was too perfectly pale and clear to be compared to alabaster; too perfect, perhaps, to be attributed to any cosmetics. The slender hand that gripped the microphone, with its long, perfectly manicured nails, gave weight to that assumption, for it was not a shade different from and just as perfect as the skin of her face. That hand held particular fascination for Miroku, curled around the mic as it was; the lecherous part of him imagined it curled around a specific part of him instead, and said part instantly sat up and took notice.

He quickly tore his eyes away and adjusted himself carefully before it became a problem, shifting his attention to other portions of the feast before him.

A long sheet of silver flowed down to her thighs, spilling over the shoulder closest to him, practically glittering in the low light and obscuring most of her face. Of what he could see, there was fine bone structure evident in the high, sweeping cheekbones and perfectly proportioned nose, and even in the delicately pointed ears. A bold slash of magenta covered the one eyelid not hidden, the only make-up he could see, and when that eye opened, he saw it was a startling amber-gold.

Just as he began to start undressing his sexy siren in his mind, the bouncer put a hand on his shoulder and snapped him out of it.

"Sir?" the man inquired, and from his tone and expression, Miroku guessed it wasn't the first time he'd tried speaking to him. He had enough grace to flush a little.

"Ah... sorry. I was a little distracted. I'm sure you can understand." He gave his most winning smile, but when the bouncer seemed unimpressed, he let it falter. "Uh... so... I'd like to get in..."

"Thirty," the bouncer replied stonily.

"What?! That's daylight robbery!"

"That's how much it costs," he said unsympathetically.

Muttering to himself about blatant theft, Miroku fished for his wallet and opened it up, his stomach sinking. Damn, not enough. He looked up to smile weakly at the bouncer, mouth opening to start spinning what Inuyasha called his Grade A Bullshit, but he was cut off immediately.

"No money, no entry."

"Oh, come on... Surely you can make an allowance...?" The steely glare he received was answer enough, and Miroku sighed. "All right. Well, then, can you at least tell me the singer's name?"

The bouncer considered him in silence, until Miroku began to wonder if the unpleasant man was going to say no just to spite him. But finally, he relented. "That's Se."

"Se?" Miroku murmured to himself. How mysterious. It only intrigued him more. "Does Se sing here often?"

"Yeah."

Not very talkative, Miroku thought. "Any set days...?"

"No."

Miroku sighed. "Well, thanks, I guess..."

The bouncer gave a barely perceptible nod, the only friendly gesture so far, and Miroku headed back onto the street after one last, longing look through the window at Se.

He could come back another time, he reasoned, trying to keep his mood buoyant. And maybe he'd bring Inuyasha next time. It was obvious Se was a youkai, with those ears and her exotic colouring, and they did give her a resemblance to Inuyasha. It was highly probable, then, that she was inuyoukai, too, and thus his friend might now her, or at least of her.

With his spirits picking up again, Miroku began whistling as he walked. It was just a shame it was too late to call Inuyasha now; he wanted the hanyou's help, not to piss him off and make him belligerent. He'd probably also have to promise to pay Inuyasha's entry fee to get him to agree, but Miroku decided it would be worth it for a shot at getting closer to Se.

As he flagged down a bus, Miroku could barely contain his excitement over the potential chase and inevitable capture of his beautiful singer. The poor girl, youkai or not, wouldn't even know what hit her, he thought, grinning.

Settling into his seat and stretching out his legs, he decided today wasn't so shitty after all.


	2. Chapter Two

Miroku had to wait until after work the next day to see Inuyasha. Even his bastard of a boss couldn't dampen his enthusiasm, especially when it kept bubbling over into his conversations and landing them commissions all day. Ordinarily, Miroku would have lorded this as much as he could and quite possibly used it as ammunition when asking for his next raise, but right then, all he could think about was seeing Se again.

On the bus home - his damn car still wasn't working, but even that wasn't bringing him down - he'd sent Inuyasha a brief text message: _beer and pizza at mine. Need to talk._ Supplying the pizza was easy; he had the number on speed dial for just such an occasion, and by the time he stepped off the bus, it was on its way. The beer, he already had in stock, and so all that was left when Miroku sailed through his front door was to shower and change.

As he'd done already this morning, he thought about Se while he was in there. He wondered if her voice would be as interestingly deep when she spoke, and if her skin would feel as soft as it looked. If he pulled her into the shower with him, how dark would that lovely silver hair go? Would it tangle easily when he wrapped it around his fingers?

Inevitably, his mind wandered to more devious imaginings. What would her kiss taste like? How soft were her lips? How long would it take him to drive a sophisticated youkai like her wild?

He could just imagine how he'd start. Hands on her slim hips as he buried his face in her swan neck, tugging her close as he tasted her skin. He'd leave so many hickeys on that alabaster skin, she'd never be able to cover them all, while his hands made the round trip to lightly grip that cute little ass, and then -

A knock at the door jerked him out of his pleasant daydream so abruptly he almost slipped and killed himself. He had to grab hold of the shower head to remain upright and scowled in the general direction of his front door. There was only one person in the entire world he knew who knocked so loudly and rudely.

"It's open," he called, barely raising his voice over the rush of water. His friend's cute puppy ears were sensitive enough that he would've been able to hear the shower going from outside the apartment, so there was no need to shout.

Miroku distantly heard the door open and close, and sighed. With said sensitive hearing in the vicinity, it wasn't like he could jerk off; that would be too weird. They weren't teenagers anymore, able to be forgiven for not being able to resist, even comparing notes as they rushed to amass as much knowledge and experience as possible in what had once seemed an almost life or death rush to go all the way with a girl.

The hanyou may have beaten him back then - and it was all thanks to those damn ears, he knew it; everyone wanted to stroke them - but this time, the prize would be his... even if he needed the hanyou's help to get there.

Comforting himself with the fact that he could jerk off to his heart's content after he had secured Inuyasha's help and chased him out, Miroku quickly finished his shower cold (Inuyasha also had a sensitive nose and would be able to smell if he was turned on) and climbed out, hurriedly towelling himself off. He then wrapped it around his waist, exiting the bathroom, passing his living room door on the way to the bedroom to find the hanyou already digging into a large pizza.

Inuyasha glanced up as he slowed down to stare and grinned. "Oh, hey. Ran into the pizza guy outside your door. You owe me."

Miroku stifled a sigh. Ordinarily, he may have reminded Inuyasha that he'd paid the last few times they'd ordered in for man talk, but since he wanted the hanyou's help... best to keep the oft simple-minded, stubborn fool in a good mood.

He waved that off and carried on to his bedroom, where he found a dark purple shirt and black jeans, changing and heading back to his living room. He swiped a slice of pizza before Inuyasha could wolf it all down, but first crossed to the other side of the room before joining his friend to fish some cash out of his wallet, which he then handed to Inuyasha as he sat down, opening a can of beer for himself.

He noted Inuyasha looked surprised and suspicious as he took the cash, but it still disappeared quickly into his pocket. Then the hanyou leaned forward, pointing a half-eaten slice of pizza at him for emphasis.

"So what the hell's so important that we had to talk about it right now?"

Miroku chewed his pizza slowly, giving himself time to formulate his answer. He'd known Inuyasha long enough that he was used to his bluntness - Inuyasha was a man of action, not words - so it wasn't surprising, but sometimes a little beating around the bush was necessary, especially when about to approach a difficult topic.

"Inuyasha..." he finally said. "I know we've never talked about it much, but how well do you know your family? Besides your father and brother, I mean."

The hanyou suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Miroku felt a little guilty, but Inuyasha shrugged and started talking before he could take it back and rephrase. "Well, mum's side... they don't really wanna know a hanyou. Dirty half-breed and all that. Can't have one of those in a fancy, high-to-do family." He scratched his chin. "And dad's side... well, there's not that many of them. And far as I know, they're spread all over. Never met any of them 'sides dad and that asshole."

Crap. Inuyasha didn't know any of them? There went his hopes that he'd be able to get an introduction... and it had seemed almost like fate, too; Se's colouring resembled Inuyasha's so much. He was certain she had inuyoukai blood.

"You really don't know any of them? Not even their names?" he asked hopefully.

Inuyasha furrowed his brows. "Why d'you wanna know? What the hell are you getting at?"

Miroku sighed. "Well... I found this girl. Really, really beautiful girl. And I'm pretty sure she's inuyoukai... so I was hoping for an introduction."

Inuyasha made a rude noise. "Forget it. Chances are, she wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire."

Miroku frowned. "You don't know that."

Inuyasha snorted. "Hell, yeah, I do. Look, inuyoukai are high class. Really high class. Really rich, really snobby, _really_ up their own asses. They don't mix with humans."

"Your dad did," Miroku countered.

The hanyou waved that away. "Yeah, but he's an oddball at the best of times, and he was probably thinking with his dick, anyway. Did you notice I said I haven't met a single one of them? Not even a glimpse. Dad hasn't either since he got with mum. That says a lot, don't you think?"

Miroku sighed again and leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "I really need to meet this girl..."

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Why? What's so special about her? You've said that about loads of girls - many of whom wouldn't even give you the time of day, if I recall - and you bounced right back to being a pervert the next night. Just let this one go, man. Not worth the effort."

"You haven't seen her," he replied petulantly, making Inuyasha snort again.

"Like I need to. Seen one, you've seen 'em all. Gold eyes, silver hair, pretty, yeah?" He shrugged. "We're all the same."

Miroku raised an eyebrow. "Did you just have a vain moment and call yourself pretty?"

Inuyasha growled and threw a pizza crust at him.

"Like fucking hell I did, shithead!" the hanyou shouted.

Miroku waved his hands placatingly. "Fine, fine," he said mildly, then pointed at the crust on the floor. "By the way, you're picking that up."

Inuyasha ignored that and folded his arms. "Seriously, though, just leave the girl alone. She ain't even gonna let you near her, trust me."

"I _can't_ ," he complained.

"Why not?" Inuyasha demanded.

"It's like..." Miroku struggled for an example. "Like when you first saw Kagome in high school. You wouldn't shut up about her, agonised for hours over what to say -"

"Shut up!" the hanyou hissed, looking around as though someone might hear them. "Fucking hell, you've got a big mouth! You better not talk about that kind of shit with Kagome and Sango!"

"Aw, but Inuyasha, wouldn't you want Kagome to know how you fell head over heels at first sight like a lovesick puppy?"

"Don't make me skewer you, bastard," Inuyasha said darkly.

Miroku grinned. "Well, in any event, it's kinda the same thing. You felt you had to meet Kagome, I feel I need to meet Se."

Inuyasha's nose wrinkled. "Se? What kind of name is that?"

"Probably a stage name." Miroku shrugged. "Who the hell cares, anyway? Her name is the least of my concerns."

The hanyou gave him a flat stare. "That's why girls think you're a perverted asshole."

Miroku glared at him. "Anyway, just come to the club with me. She sings there. And then when she's finished, maybe she might talk to me if I'm with you."

"What've you been smoking, jackass? No pureblood inuyoukai is gonna speak to a _hanyou_. I'm less than shit to them. Even my own prick of a half-brother barely says a word to me unless absolutely necessary, so what the hell makes you think this girl will?"

"I don't know! But it's worth a try, isn't it? So do this for me? Please? Pretty please? I'll actually pay you this time when you fix my car..."

"What? You broke it again? What the fuck, Miroku?"

Not one to be deterred by Inuyasha avoiding agreeing to anything, Miroku shifted from his sofa to the hanyou's chair, sitting on the arm and leaning dangerously into his personal space. " _Please_? It would mean a lot to me..."

Inuyasha reared back until it appeared he was trying to melt into the back of the armchair. "All right, all right!" he yelled, shoving Miroku's shoulders hard enough to almost send him flying off the chair and onto his ass. "Just move the fuck back! You're almost in my lap, you pervert!"

Miroku sat back and clapped his hands together, an overly pleasant expression on his face. "Yes! It's settled, then!" He checked his watch. "If we left now, we could probably still get there in time."

"What? No, no, I can't. I promised I'd hang with Kagome tonight."

"Damn," he muttered. "When, then?"

"Uh..." The hanyou scratched his head absently and flicked an ear. "Maybe Friday? Can't stay out too late, though. Kagome's making me go shopping with her and then out to dinner on Saturday as an early birthday present."

The look of abject misery at this prospect on Inuyasha's face would have made Miroku laugh uproariously any other time, but he had other pressing concerns on his mind. He sighed.

"Hey, don't be in such a rush. I'm tellin' ya, this ain't gonna work, anyway."

Miroku sighed again. "What would you suggest, then?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Well, we can't ask dad... he doesn't like talking about the family, so he's not gonna help just so you can get your rocks off. Which leaves... Sesshomaru."

Interested, Miroku sat up straighter. "You think Sesshomaru would help?"

The hanyou snorted with laughter. "Hell, no. He's the quintessential arrogant youkai. Probably wouldn't even acknowledge your existence, let alone talk to you." He picked up another slice of pizza. "Still your best bet, though."

"Well, gee, thanks," Miroku muttered, slumping again, not at all pleased with how this evening had gone.

He had no idea why he'd let himself get his hopes up at the mention of Sesshomaru. Despite having never met the older brother, Inuyasha had been complaining about him consistently since infancy, so he had a pretty good idea what the youkai was about. From all accounts, he wasn't the type to help someone for the sake of it... or for any other reason Miroku could imagine.

Still, Sesshomaru was his only possible link to his beautiful singer. He wouldn't give up just because he was an impressive obstacle as well.

"We can try him after," he decided.

Inuyasha blinked. "What?"

"Sesshomaru. If taking you to the club doesn't work, we can try Sesshomaru."

For a moment, the hanyou just stared at him. Then he sighed. "All right, whatever. I give up. Your funeral."

Standing up, Miroku nodded decisively. "That's done, then. We have a plan. Now fuck off, I have things to do," he said, remembering his earlier plans to indulge in a little private fantasy time and jack off while thinking of the beautiful Se.

"Hey, I haven't finished my beer!"

"Take a pack with you, then. Don't you have to get back to Kagome, anyway?"

"Fine," the hanyou grumbled, getting to his feet and snatching up a six pack. "I'll come around early on Friday, see what the fuck you've done to that heap of shit you call a car this time. Maybe I won't have to take it into the shop."

"Yeah, sure." Miroku nodded, ushering Inuyasha ahead of him. "Here, take the keys with you in case I'm not home yet." He pulled them off the rack beside his door and handed them over, then opened the door and steered his friend out with a wave. "See you Friday."

"Yeah, see ya." Inuyasha didn't look back as he headed out into the hall and down the stairs, and Miroku didn't wait to see him off safely. He had plans.

Turning back to face his living room, he noticed it was in quite a bit of disarray. During the course of their conversation, pizza boxes and beer cans had spread across the coffee table and even onto the sofa, and Inuyasha had managed to escape without picking up the crust he threw across the room. Miroku sighed, supposing that was his fault for being so eager to get rid of him.

Still, right now, he didn't care. He could clean it up later, or in the morning. Once again, he hurried toward his bedroom, where a box of Kleenex and a Playboy magazine were waiting for him.


	3. Chapter Three

The following night was a Thursday, and Miroku found himself unable to just jerk off to the thought of the captivating singer, Se - something unheard of for the man who'd once been told by his mother to "leave it alone or you'll wear it out!" He wanted to see her again, because fantasy never lived up to reality.

That was how he found himself inside the club, despite the exorbitant entry fee, right at the back. Luckily, it was a small venue, so he could still see, but he really wanted to be close enough that he could've touched her if he wanted and that just wasn't possible with the crowd that had turned out tonight. Whether that was to do with the special Thursday drink offer or their star attraction, Miroku had no idea.

He was just glad said attraction was actually here tonight. He'd been at the club at least a couple hours before she actually sauntered out onto the stage in what seemed to be her standard black. As he'd discovered from one of the regular patrons he'd found himself talking to, Se wasn't a regular act in the conventional sense of the word. It seemed she put in an appearance whenever she felt like it, and was absent when she didn't.

That would make it tricky to catch her, Miroku mused, and considered it lucky he enjoyed a challenge. It would certainly liven up the chase if his quarry was prone to appearing at random intervals with no set pattern, and would make the final catch all the sweeter when he finally did get her under him.

It would be a problem with Inuyasha, though. If Se wasn't here tomorrow, as he fervently hoped she would be, Miroku had no idea how he'd convince the difficult hanyou to come back with him again and again until they did find her. It would be hard enough just making him stay still for however many hours it took for her to make her way to the stage.

Not to mention the dents it would all put in his finances if he had to keep coming back, night after night, paying for both of them.

He put that aside as a hurdle to navigate when he came to it in favour of just watching her perform. She'd just come to the end of a stirringly sensual ballad, and now a more upbeat song was starting. He vaguely recognised the tune and could remember a few snatches of lyrics, just enough to know it was a song where she'd need to put more power into her voice to pull it off than he'd yet heard.

Eager, he leaned forward to watch, so far he was almost out of his chair completely. Yet as he watched Se soar through the song with ease, he noted she didn't move from her spot even once. She didn't even gesture with her arms, as all other performers he'd watched tended to do. But there was something about her, some grace or majesty that she effortlessly commanded, that gave the lyrics power, and lent her a _presence_ that was as riveting as it was sexy.

But his eagerness got the better of him, and as he leant forward, so to did his chair tip in the same direction, until gravity brought everything crashing down. Miroku spilled out of the chair, cracking his chin on the table before falling underneath in an embarrassing sprawl, clutching his jaw as he rolled around pitifully.

"Ow, ow, ow! _Shit_!" he moaned, blinking back tears.

A hand reached under the table and gripped his shoulder, and a ruddy, concerned-looking face peered at him. "Hey, man, you ok?" the man said with just a slight drunken slur, and Miroku managed a nod.

"Yeah, yeah... I'll live, anyway." He rubbed his sore jaw and winced. Hopefully, it wouldn't give him an embarrassing bruise. Inuyasha would be all over that like a rash, and if the stubborn hanyou managed to get the truth out of him, he'd never live it down.

Politely declining the offer of aid, Miroku climbed out from under the table and back into his chair only to find that the stage was now empty and the buzz of conversation was growing around him while the patrons waited for the next act.

For a moment, he stared, unable to believe that in the few moments it took him to recover, Se had made her escape. He'd been hoping to talk to her; honestly, he'd come to the decision that it might be a good idea to try and get her attention without Inuyasha hanging around him. His best friend was crass and rude and wouldn't give the best impression. If he couldn't do it without Inuyasha, fine, he'd give that a try, but wasn't it worth taking a shot going solo?

He picked up his drink and downed the remains, steeling himself. Picking his way through the crowd of semi-drunken patrons, Miroku made his way to the small door to the left of the stage that he was sure led backstage. As he'd expected, a huge bouncer soon blocked his way like a wall of muscle.

He tried a winning smile. "Excuse me, I'm wondering if it would be at all possible to see Se --"

"No one gets backstage," came the flat reply.

"But if you'd just --"

"No one," the bouncer reiterated more firmly, with just a tiny hint of threat in it. Miroku found he was pissed. It seemed no one but the damn customers were friendly in this little hole. If not for a captivating woman, he'd have washed his hands of the whole thing.

But it seemed he wasn't going to get what he wanted now. Reluctantly, he turned away and, having no further reason to stay, left. He decided to walk home rather than get the bus so he could take the time to work up a plan.

\---

When the next evening rolled around, Miroku was back in the club. He'd managed to get a seat closer to the stage this time, but still not at the front. Se was on stage, in all her glory, but Miroku found he was getting increasingly pissed off.

Se had already been performing for nearly half an hour, and Miroku was beginning to realise that was usually the woman's limit. She obviously felt no need to overtax herself when singing. Honestly, if not for her amazing voice, he was sure she'd be out of a job because of her work ethics... or lack thereof.

This meant, however, that she was likely to disappear offstage again any time soon and hs wingman was nowhere in sight. He'd been waiting for at least three hours now, and his calm and patience were at their limits.

Angrily, he yanked out his phone, quickly keying in a message to his soon-to-be-ex hanyou best friend. _Where are you? You're late! Hurry up!_

He drummed his fingers impatiently for the full three minutes it took to get a reply.

_Was gonna come, but somthn came up. Big trble. Cnt tlk now, c u l8r._

Miroku nearly threw his phone at the nearest available head. Something came up, did it? He knew exactly what it was! That damn bastard was blowing him off to get laid!

 _So much for bros before hos_ , he fumed. Then took a moment to consider what would happen to him if Kagome ever heard him say that and shuddered.

As he'd predicted, Se came to the end of her slow ballad and exited stage left without even so much as a nod to the audience (he found her cool demeanour interesting and wondered how long it would take him to break through it). Still resolved to give wooing her by himself a try if the opportunity presented itself, Miroku grabbed the gift he'd bought earlier and once again approached backstage.

He was met by the bouncer from yesterday, who merely stared at him silently with a look that clearly said he was remembered and should know better.

Miroku held up the bouquet he was holding; he'd foregone the obvious choice of roses, feeling they were too cliche. Instead, he'd picked lilies because they reminded him of Se: graceful, delicate, pale and beautful.

"I know I can't come back there," he said, giving his smile one last chance. "I was just wondering if these could be passed to Se for me."

The bouncer took the flowers from him, inspecting every inch of them as though he expected a bomb to be attached. Then, finally, after Miroku had started to wonder if they would be discarded, they were passed to another member of staff for delivery.

He breathed a small sigh of relief and let himself wander a little bit away from the door, but he didn't leave. He hung around, idly listening to the conversations around him. He considered ordering another drink. All so he didn't have to leave quite yet, just in case something miraculous happened.

Well, who was he kidding? He smiled ruefully to himself. A beautiful woman like that probably got dozens of bouquets a night. One wasn't going to stand out from the bunch, and it had been modest to start with. Maybe he should stop getting his hopes up and just leave. When he finally managed to drag Inuyasha to the club, he could bring more flowers.

Just as he'd talked himself into leaving, a large, meaty hand landed on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to look up into the bouncer's face.

"Se wants to see you," he said. "Now. Follow him." The bouncer gestured to a stage hand waiting for him in the doorway.

For a moment, Miroku could only stare. His flowers had actually worked? Why? What was special about them? It was a small bouquet - although ridiculously expensive for just five flowers and a lot of green stuff - so why did they stand out?

Maybe they were her favourite? Had he been that lucky? He'd have to find out for sure. If he'd found a way in, he was going to make sure the path stayed open.

The bouncer cleared his throat and Miroku started back to reality. "Ah, right, sorry. Going!" He didn't need to be told twice and quickly leapt to action, hurrying over to the stage hand so fast, he nealy fell in his eagerness.

It seemed miracles really did happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Miroku, if you knew what we knew, you'd be running out the door as fast as you could right now. >_>


	4. Four

Backstage, the atmosphere was much different. The space he walked through was dark and crampt, with a single light every few feet or so, and cables hung from the ceilings and crawled along the floors. Despite the dim light, however, it was more obvious away from the patron areas that this building had once been a house, remodelled to suit the owner's purposes. Again, he wondered why such a high class act like Se was working here.

Still, it was only a dim thought. Running paramount through his mind at the moment was the concern that this club, however low key, was clearly run by youkai. Though he had met plenty over the years who were perfectly friendly, he had to admit the majority of them had been, at the very least, disdainful toward humans. Sometimes much worse. And a lot of them weren't afraid to show it.

Miroku's concern grew as he was led up a flight of stairs, away from the noise, what he'd clearly noted were the dressing rooms at the other end of the hall, and from... witnesses. With tension starting to knot between his shoulder blades, he began to seriously wonder if he should just turn around and walk - hell, _run_ \- in the opposite direction. Had he upset the pretty singer with his advances somehow? No, no, it had just been flowers. How could that offend a lady? Or maybe... it was her boyfriend who was offended. Likely a youkai boyfriend.

The thought had him gripping his phone tightly in his pocket, thumb grazing over where he best guessed the 9 was. He wouldn't be caught off-guard. Face grim, he opened his mouth to speak to his escort, to start spinning some excuse as to why he had to get the hell out of there right now, but before he could get a word out, they reached the top of the stairs and a door opposite was knocked on, then, at a sign too quiet for him to hear, opened for him. The stage hand gestured for him to enter.

Trepidation had him hesitating a moment. He got the feeling that if he entered that room, he wouldn't be leaving again until the occupant was ready to let him go. But as he could see that the only person in the room was Se... maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. With desire overriding common sense, as was often the case with Miroku, he stepped in. The door was closed quietly behind him as he moved slowly toward the middle of the room.

He looked around him. It was dark, but he could see that it was a fair-sized room that had been converted into office space. From what he could see out the window and past the glorious fall of silver that was Se's hair, the view looked out onto the street where he'd entered the club. There was also some measure of soundproofing, because Miroku's human ears could no longer hear anything from outside the room. Apparently the youkai who'd shown him the way had been able to hear noises from within, though.

All these thoughts and observations took a few moments, but Se still hadn't moved or said a word. Miroku shifted slightly from one foot to the other, wondering what was expected of him.

"Take a seat," she finally said, in a voice even deeper than he'd expected. It was smooth, soft and low, and (he wasn't sure if this was because of his infatuation with the woman) somehow erotic. It took her turning slightly and gesturing to the chair opposite the mahogany desk on one side of the room to snap him out of it and seat himself.

With long, elegant strides, she crossed over to sit behind the desk, an unmistakable sign of authority. She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair, watching Miroku silently with those bewitching, intense amber eyes. Suddenly, Miroku found himself wondering if she owned the entire venue. It would make perfect sense; the reason she occupied this room instead of one of the changing rooms, the way she picked and chose when she cared to sing, keeping no schedule but her own. It made him relax a little. A small fear had crept in that perhaps she sung here because her lover owned it and wanted her to, or perhaps she simply did it on a whim.

But the silence and the staring carried on until Miroku was almost squirming in his chair like a naughty schoolboy. This wasn't how it should be going. They should be talking in a brightly lit room over the flowers he'd sent, so he could use his charm to its full advantage. This was... he didn't know what this was, but it wasn't pleasant. He almost felt like he was on trial. He was desperate to break the silence.

"It's, uh... a little dark in here," he finally said, lamely. But he didn't feel like he could start off with flirting, as he usually did. Not with this one. Despite her earlier sensuality, there was something dangerous about her now. Like if he reached out carelessly, he'd find himself cut. It wasn't just because she was youkai, either. He'd hit on youkai women before, with both negative and positive results. She was just... different.

"I can see perfectly fine," she countered, still in that low voice, and made no move to reach for the lamp on the desk. Clearly, she wanted him off-balance, Miroku thought with chagrin and some annoyance. She was getting exactly what she wanted, once again forcing him to resist squirming.

"Yes, well, I'm not a youkai, so..." He trailed off, trying to smile charmingly, yet aware by how it felt that he'd failed miserably.

"No... you are not. And yet you attempt to woo me with... flowers."

Miroku fought against his weak smile turning into a frown. Try to keep the tone upbeat, he thought. She obviously wasn't going to put any effort into that area herself. He couldn't even tell if she was amused or... contemptible. She'd seemed so expressive earlier, but now he realised that was all the song. Her true face was controlled and impassive, revealing nothing. Not even a hint.

He took a small breath. "Do you... dislike flowers?"

"I neither like nor dislike them. They simply are."

Miroku had no idea what to say to that. He'd never met anyone who so firmly and unequivocally claimed neutrality over flowers. He'd thought everyone had at least one flower that they liked the look of, the smell of. Maybe even just for sentimental reasons. Even if they disliked flowers in general, there was always _one_ that was saved from the list. And who could really claim to not enjoy seeing the colours that popped up every spring? This woman was strange, no doubt. She would be difficult.

But he had to say something, even if he had no idea where to go from here. He had to say something. He couldn't stand the silence. It was so uncomfortable, and left him no defence against the fact that he was clearly being scrutinised, weighed and measured against whatever standards she had. He might have felt steadier if he had some hint he was measuring up favourably.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something - anything - but she cut him off with a wave of her slender hand before he managed even a syllable. Her eyes narrowed and she fired a single question at him: "Did Inuyasha send you?"

Pure shock rippled through Miroku. Inuyasha? She knew Inuyasha? How? Inuyasha had claimed to only know his father and older brother, and with the latter, the knowing was limited as much as both of them could manage. Of course, that didn't mean his other relatives wouldn't know of _him_ , and likely did, if they kept their distance from the hanyou.

But that still didn't explain why Se connected the two of them.

"Why would you ask that?" His confusion was clear, and one of her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"His scent clings to you. Faint, but present to one able to discern such things. It suggests frequent interaction if it does not fade with regular cleansing of the skin."

Of course, that made sense. And it showed how much he was off-balance that he didn't think of it himself. After all, Inuyasha had always been able to tell when he got lucky - and when he didn't - even after a thorough showering. It had been somewhat frustrating at first to not be able to brag to Inuyasha as he could his human friends, but he'd gotten used to it.

But the question still had to be asked. He'd been wondering about any familial ties between the two of them ever since he laid eyes on Se, and now he'd get to confirm one way or another. And perhaps he'd get to brag.

"Do you know Inuyasha, then?" He asked it lightly, trying not to let it show how curious he was about the answer. He had a vague feeling maybe she'd withhold just because if he did.

Se waved a hand almost dismissively. "Of course, more's the pity; the half-breed is my younger brother."

For a moment, Miroku's confusion layered thick over anything else that struck him. Younger brother? Inuyasha had a sister? Inuyasha had never mentioned it and he would have. He took great relish in complaining about what an utter bastard his brother was, so if a sister had treated him even worse, she wouldn't have been spared. So that meant... Inuyasha didn't know? His father had kept it a secret? But, no, that made no sense, either. Touga adored his son and wouldn't have hidden one more unfriendly sibling from him. Inuyasha could more than handle it.

So that meant... there was no sister. And with that one, single thought, the shock and horror crashed down on him, and he found himself plastering against the back of his chair, staring at Se and gaping open mouthed.

Se... short for Sesshomaru. 

Inuyasha's older brother.

A man.

He'd been infatuated... with a man. He'd openly pursued a man. For God's sake, he'd jerked off to a man! No amount of androgyny on that man's part could erase the fact that he _was_ male. Especially when the attraction lingered and he still found that lecherous part of his brain looking at Sesshomaru with the glad eye.

He had to get out of here. Out into the fresh air, to clear his head. He'd walk home, have a shower, scrape this nonsense away. Then he'd go to bed, sleep for the next few days - screw work - and that would be it. He'd put it all out of his mind. And no one would ever need to know the truth he'd uncovered.

He started to stand, mumbling some excuse he wasn't even certain made sense, but Sesshomaru stopped him with a single, no-nonsense command to stay seated. Miroku paused in spite of himself, his gaze dragging back to the youkai opposite him. The way the golden eyes flashed despite the lack of light made him swallow and lower slowly back into his chair, still freaking out and now wondering what the hell was going to happen to him.

Would he make it out of this room in one piece?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Though if Miroku continues on as he is currently, he might not be. XD
> 
> The cat is well and truly out of the bag now. He knows exactly who he's talking to and things will only get more stressful for him from here on out. Yay? XD
> 
> Enjoy! <3


End file.
